The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-02-16

i - ---NS - e--~ A4oNs 0A< bAC ACst ,
to come afterln
| He slowly lifted the pannikin and
poured its contents in the fire. As il
hissed and cracked in the flame he went
on speaking
"Pm goin' down in the morning to
see him once more. If you do your
part and let him get better I'll come
here tomorrow night and end it. /
swear solemnly / viii. You hear me?
VIII that do?
He knelt with uplifted, bloodstained
hands, looking up to the peaceful sky.
As he looked, falling star drew a line
of light across the spsce of sky between
the tops of the stringy barks and van
ished.
''It's donel its donei" he cried. and
flung himself forward on his face. He
lay there for some time without moving;
while the fire fiickered down and died
leaping up now and then, and casting
weird, vague lights and shadows over
the grave mound and the PROSTATE fig
ure.
The slow hours of the afternoon drag
ged out their cruel length, Macdonald,
the overseer, sat by Murdoeh's side.
Murdoch lay still, with closed eyes-not
| AASNP AnCh l1dt DN the pG
casional twitching of the white lips IN
] spasm of pain, and the Tightening grasp
of the hand he held in his. He had
done all he could to relieve the long last
agony; it was not much-there was no
surgical aid within reach, and he knew
enough to feel sure that even had there
been, no skill or care could save him.
They would never quarrel again, those
NJ hnx haH Il Il
once week, and no one would have sus-
pected from Macdonald's dry reserved
ways and caustic severity of speech that
he loved this ''feckless," reckless Muir
doch like his own brother.
He was beginning to hope that sleep
denied all night long-might come at
last, when Murdoek turned his head
wearily and opened his eyes
"Pm that tired, Maci L shall be glad
when it's over"
1t was the first word of complaint he
had uttered. Macdonald had not broken
down before, but he felt near it now.
he felt the sob rising in his throat as he
murmured something incoherent about
the impossibilities of getting doctor.
Don't worry about that, Mac. Why,
bless you, he'd only bother me and not
be able to do any good, If am to get
better, shall get on all right alone; if
not, what's the good of being pulled
about? Thank you, old fellow"
Macdonald had risen and changed his
pillows and was bathing his forehead,
looking with vague trouble into the
sunken dark eyes,
"All right, Mac; | know that Pm done
for-Tve no hopes of being patched up
again. Only don't you fret. What is
it?'
One of the stockmen had come to the
halfopened door and was beckoning to
Macdonald, who went out softly, closing
it behind him.
"Well%
'1t's Black Bill-that there queer cove
from the bush. Reckon he's gone crazy
like. He's been sitting there in the
doorway the last three hours and won't
go away. Came down this morning
wanted to know how the boss was-says
we're to tell him as soon as he's any
better"
Macdonald went down and found him
seated there, sullen, slouching, defiant,
in outward seeming-knees crossed, and
arms folded-no life about him save in
their lowering brows. He rose slowly
and touched his hat.
"Ain's he no better yeti"
Don't you know" said Macdonald,
irritable with the impatience of sup
pressed pain, chats he'll never be any
better in this world?''
wild eyes.
81 thought it would be afore sun
down." he muttered. "Don't you be-
lieve it, Sir: he amt a-goin' to die-no,
no-not hep
He sat down again. setting back into
his old look of dogged patience. Mac
donald, finding it useless TO say anything
to him, went quietly back, and took up
his post again beside Murdock.
"What was it, Mac? Any one want
ing your
at was Bill Adamson, from the huts
beyond the creek. He was wanting to
know how you were"
"Black Bill? Poor old chap! You
didn't send him away, did not? I'd
like to see him again"
"Can you bear it, MurdockT
"Why not? Do let him come upp
Macdonald went down again, and
| found him still motionless in the same
position. He touched him on the shoul-
der.
"Adamson, will you come up? He
wants to see YOU"
The mans whole face lighted up.
"The boss? May IP'
He rose at once to follow-then he
suddenly stopped and carefully drew off
his heavy boots.
"Did he say he wanted to see me?"
eyes"
| He spoke not another word, but went
into the room with Macdonald, and
stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed :,
scarcely daring to lift his eyes to the
changed white face with the hollow
temples and drawn lips.
"Well, old fellow? I'm awfully glad
to see. you. Just leave US little, viii
you, Mac?"
And Macdonald left them together.
He looked up, twisted his fingers
helplessly, scraped the floor with his
foot, and jerked out the words, with a
kind of defiance
"You won die, bossi / know you
won't. Pve made it all rightp'
! "What do you mean? Come herep'
And he went nearer, and Lennox Muir
doch lifted his unwounded left arm and
laid it around his neck.
"Why, don't you know, boss? They
said they'd take rue instead of you-and
they won't go back on their word"
Il don't understand, Tell me all
about it,"
He raised himself-it must have cost
him fearful pain-with his old winning,
mischieyous smile, as if he were nightly
amused at himself and the whole situa-
ton, and laid his head down on Bills
shoulder. The great bushman wound
his rough arms tenderly round the
slight figure and asked instead of an
swering-
4 "Does it hurt much now?''
"No, not much account. Tell me
what you mean, dear old lad"
So he told him-slowly, in broken
awkward words, having to be helped
out by questions now and then-of the
black fellows burial place, and the
midnight Incarnation, and how they
,, had promised by the sign of the falling
star. And before he had ended the dy
ing man was sobbing as if his hear
would break.
"Don't, Sir; oh, don't! You'll hur
e, yourself, you willp'
"Bill-dear, dear old Bill-how coult
you think of such a thing? Oh, God
oh, Godr
my life for yorrs-mine amt wortl
much-and what would we ever d,
without your
"0h! but you mustn't-you mustn'
: think of God in that wayi You-oh
what shall / say to you? You'll breal
my hearth